


Two Sides of the Forest

by octopus_fool



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Drowning, Gen, Mirkwood, Mirkwood is creepy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-13 00:05:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18021065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octopus_fool/pseuds/octopus_fool
Summary: The Forest is less than welcoming when Tauriel returns.





	Two Sides of the Forest

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the following prompts of the B2MEM Bingo: March 2: N42 – Horror Crossover (Card 103 - Horror); River (145 - Person vs. Nature). I went with the literal meaning of the first prompt rather than the fandom one.

It had been her home once, but now that she was returning from banishment, it was different. Tauriel had known the dangers of the Forest, particularly the spiders and other horrid creatures invading from the south, but the forest itself had held no malice against her. She had been able to move around in it freely, as a part of it. 

Now, the Forest seemed to object to her very presence. She had thought it was her own paranoia at first. After all, King Thranduil had her forbidden her to return on pain of death and she was not expecting a warm welcome. Still, she had to bring these tidings to the Woodland Realm, or risk its destruction. 

The dark green no longer seemed welcoming, but loomed over her as a threat. Eyes watched her in the dark and the path seemed to twist beneath her feet. The silence rang so loudly in her ears that she started imagining the rustling of leaves and the sounds of paws and feet in the shadows of the trees. She kept tripping and stumbling, falling over roots she knew had not been there moments before. 

Springs of fresh water that had been there before had disappeared, and those springs she did find had a rusty brown colour. Leeches twisted and twitched in them. When she sniffed the water that flowed from the springs, her nose tingled and she preferred to use only the supply she had brought with her. Thirst parched her mouth, but while it was unpleasant, it would not kill her.

A stag, as white as moonlight and nearly as translucent, watched her and leaped away between the trees. She did not try to follow it. She knew she would be lost as soon as she set a foot off the path. 

The Forest stretched on, and as the days turned into weeks, Tauriel’s mind kept drifting back to the complaints travellers had had about the forest. How they had laughed at them! Mortal minds turning a little darkness into a looming presence, stifling and threatening, just because they did not understand the trees. The elves saw the Forest as a shelter, a place of peace, a welcoming home. Suddenly seeing it through a traveller’s eyes made Tauriel’s mind spin as she wondered what was real and what just illusion. 

Tauriel reached the river. She had been hoping to reach it for days, since it meant that the Woodland Halls were only a few days away. What she had not been expecting was that the bridge that she had crossed countless times was gone. Only crumbling ruins remained, half-shrouded in fog and overgrown with twisting vines. The thickness of the vines told Tauriel that they had been growing on the ruined bridge for at least a century. Tauriel had only been gone for a few decades. 

Carefully, Tauriel climbed onto the ruins of the bridge. She edged towards the spot where it fell towards the water and knelt down to feel if there was really no hidden bridge. Her hands just felt the dense, humid air of the forest, humming with resentment. A stone came loose and tumbled into the water, swallowed by the inky water. She knew with complete certainty that she should not touch the river from which she had once drunk without second thought. Tauriel decided it was best to come up with a plan from the safety of solid ground. 

It didn’t take long for her to come up with one. The rope she had been given by the Lady Galadriel had helped her on many occasions on her journeys, and it would do so again. Tauriel looked for a sturdy-looking branch on the other bank. With the practice of many years, she tied a loop into the rope and cast it across the river to fasten it around the branch. She gave the rope a good tug to tighten it. The branch felt sturdy against the rope as she tugged on it, and the minute sounds the friction of the rope made against it confirmed that it was solid and healthy. 

Tauriel pulled the rope taught and fastened it around a tree trunk on her side of the river. With nimble feet, she stepped onto the rope and began walking across the river. Thin wisps of fog rose from the river and Tauriel knew better than to look down.

She had barely reached the middle of the river when a strong gust of wind came out of nowhere and nearly shook her from the rope. Crouching down and clinging to the rope with one hand while holding out the other for balance, Tauriel took a moment to catch her breath. The fog didn’t even so much as stir in a breeze. Another gust of wind hit Tauriel and she decided it was better to continue before the wind became any worse. 

Hand over hand, foot over foot, she crept toward the other bank. The rope creaked under the gusts that continued to shake her at irregular intervals, but Tauriel had always taken pride in her sense of balance and she knew the ropes from Lothlorién would not be easily broken. 

There was a loud snap and before Tauriel knew it, she was in the river. The water was icy cold despite the day being warm. The branch must have snapped, Tauriel realised.

She felt for the ground, remembering warm summer evenings splashing about next to the bridge with Legolas, only waist-deep in the water. She could not reach it. She began swimming. The bank was not far, she would be able to reach it in no time at all and then she could finally take a nap.

Swimming in the inky water felt like trying to move in honey. She struggled against it, pushing against it with her arms, kicking at it with her legs. She was so tired. As still as the water looked, there was a strong current trying to pull her downwards. Downwards, like into a bed. Like into a grave. 

Tauriel renewed her struggle. For the first time in her life, she wondered what drowning felt like. 

Something brushed against her legs. Frantically, she kicked at it. Just a water plant, she told herself. There had never been any water plants here when she was still captain of the guard. If only she could briefly close her eyes and sleep. Then she would be able to wake from this nightmare.

There it was again, something soft and slimy against her legs. Tauriel gasped and breathed in water. Spluttering, she fought to keep her face above the surface. She was just so horribly tired. 

Her eyes drooped. Something grasped her legs, pulling her downwards, into dreams, into nightmares. 

“I just wanted to warn the Realm of danger,” she murmured just as she was about to let herself be pulled under water.

There was a pause, then her legs were released. The water felt liquid again, and Tauriel was suddenly wide awake. Coughing and spluttering, she swam to the bank with a few strokes.

A hand stretched out for her from the top of the bank and she looked up into the face of Captain Melathon. 

“Return with me to the Halls. The King wishes to hear what this danger you speak of is.”


End file.
